Category: Dreams

My dreams have been uncharacteristically silent for the last few days.

I just… haven’t had any.

It’s been strange; I’ve had so many nights of traumatic, horrible nightmares. And now, there’s nothing.
I would have expected to have even more, terrible dreams since the accident, but it’s been radio silence since.

Despite how awful they can be, I rely on my dreams pretty heavily. Within the wicked madness, I can usually find some bit of insight that I am supposed to take with me.
I sort of feel like I’m in a void right now.

Not that I want the terror back soon, but I’d really like more than darkness.
I want a good dream.
A happy dream.

This is a time of rest. As the night is long and the days are short it becomes a time of self healing and rejuvenation. As mother Earth has tucked herself in, so should you. It is perfectly fine to allow yourself the time to heal and relax that is necessary.

This is also known as the Yule Moon, as it usually falls right before the Yule celebrations begin. Take time for reflection on the past year. Honour all that you have learned and mentally clear out what you no longer need. Enjoy the long night as it is a time of peace on Earth and a great time of personal healing.

Whether you celebrate Yule, Christmas, Chanukah or Kwanza, it is a time of peace and love, to all mankind and to the creatures of the earth. Do not forget to put out food for our animal friends as food is getting scarce and all life is sacred, this becomes a good time to honour all life.

This is also the time of fellowship, when friends come together and new friends are made. When the prosperous help support those who struggle, there is no greater joy than the sharing of what you have with those who have not.

In the native belief, the time of the moon covered from one month to the next, so it was not just one day, it was the cycle of the moon. So there was always plenty of time to do what needed to be done in that time. So do not think that you only have one day to honour, celebrate, meditate and rest. Spend the whole month doing so. Allow yourself the time to rest and repair. But also allow yourself time to celebrate and share.

There are no set rules to honour this time of year, there are many customs and beliefs, but you should do what your heart feels is right. Your guides can help you or you can follow the tradition of your choice. In my home we honour all, I will set up for Yule, we will have a tree, I will light the candles of the menorah, I believe all holidays have a valid point or they would not exist. Besides it is fun to study others beliefs, helps me to be more understanding, then any judgment or fear of someone else’s beliefs fade away and I continue to grow. So on that note, I shall bid you adieu, from this moon ’til the next, many blessings to you and yours.

Tonight is a Full Moon it is called the Cold Moon or the Before Yule Moon.
This is an especially special Full Moon because it is the last one of this year. It is a time to use the Moonlight to charge our energies ready for coming Yule and the New Year.
This particular Full Moon will not be boring and will have an unpredictable vibe along with it. What was stuck may suddenly begin to move or shift. If emotions are clogged, they may surface and flow.
Allow this.
Be with it as loving as possible with your self and others.
The potential of the Full Moon in Gemini is to become aware of where you are engaging in dualistic thought, emotions and behaviors on auto-pilot. This may be generating a lot of mental stress and tension plus sending out mixed signals to others and the Universe. Some people may be irritable and cranky.
Emotions can be raw and urgent.
Breathe deeply.
Ground yourself.
Keep a sense of humor.
Be of good cheer.
Be the calm in the storm.
Get in the driver seat and empower yourself.
Be honest with yourself.
Stop arguing for your limitations.
Take responsibility for your life. In this way, you can change what is not working. You are the master of your destiny.
Take your power back from society and/or other people.
Learn from your mistakes.
Vow to do better next year.
Make a commitment to your success.
Be adaptable.
Make friends with change. It is not the enemy. Change is your friend. Change sheds the old and gives birth to the new.
With Yule and New year approaching look deep into yourself and ask what you want to happen in the coming year, ask yourself how you will bring it about. Make this the year that you make all your dreams come true. The energy from this Full Moon wants you to succeed. Tell the Moon your hopes and dreams write them down on paper and burn them by a white candle. As the smoke drifts to the heavens the universe will receive your message. Have a blessed Full Moon.
May the Goddess watch over you.

Something that happened while I got ready for work this morning brought a flash of a memory of a dream.
It was something that I had apparently shuffled to the back of my brain, hoping to forget it.

I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

It struck me so hard that I have found myself on the verge of a panic attack since. And I can’t seem to shake it.

What could affect me so deeply?
Fearing that the people I love most will leave me.
In the dream, someone communicated with my loved ones that I was “toxic”, and should be left to my own misery instead of bringing it to them.

I have my troupe mates, my co-workers, my friends.
I fill my life with events and activities so that I am rarely ever alone with my thoughts.

I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.

When I’m alone, my mind starts wandering.
It’s generally pleasant, at first, as one might expect. Thoughts of the things I enjoy most – dancing, traveling, spending time with friends.
But then…

I begin to wander into dark places.
Places from which I have a hard time coming back.

The woods, hallways, and oceans of black that sit in my mind are terrifying.
Monsters and demons and hell-spawn claw at me until I am nothing more than a bloody pool of snack-size pieces of flesh smeared upon the rug.
My eyes burn from tears than won’t fall.

I can hear my heart beating.
I feel it throbbing at the side of my neck.

There are days that I just want to be able to sleep through the night without worrying about the monsters that hide in the corner of my brain.
The little sounds that usually comfort me to sleep have suddenty become deafening.

I miss the sound of Peanut snoring her cute little snores at the foot of the bed.
And her little nose against mine in the morning. And all the tiny, obnoxious things she insisted on doing to wake me up.

I miss the confidence I used to have.
Some of it has come back. I have some really amazing people in my life that kick me out of my self-pity funks. But there’s a part of me that left a long time ago, and I’m not sure if it’ll come back.

I miss long trips to the lake. And fishing with Grandpa.Weekends just never feel long enough.

I miss Grandma’s rose garden.
She had so many pretty colors growing, and she almost always let me take one home.

I want new ink.
I told myself that I wouldn’t want more, but I do. I find things that remind me of the person I want to be.
Things that tell the story of me (not that anyone would necessarily want to read it, but I often write for my own sake anyway).

I miss that period between high school and college, when the groupd of us partied like rock stars.
Waking up in the morning to find someone passed out on the bathroom floors.

I really, really miss D&D.
Miranda was a badass. Do NOT mess with Battle Banshee.
No, you cannot shoot lighting out of your butt.
What the hell are ice arrows?
Never get into a drinking competition with a dwarf.
Tiles was the greatest game EVER.

I’ve been writing a lot lately, which was (sort of) the whole point of starting a blog.

I needed a place to vent, to find myself and my purpose. I don’ know that I have found either, yet, but I feel like I’m on a pretty good track.

My writing technique has suffered from neglect. I’m not quite happy with what comes out, because it isn’t coming out how it sounds in my head. But I can feel the rusty joints moving and am confident that some things will come back to me.
At this moment, though, I still feel like what I have been writing is coming out as a bit contrived, juvenile, and predictable. I think that’s probably normal, and I have to push through it.

A lot of the things I write are a bit depressing – death, losing love, depression – because those are the things that push me to write. They are things I know, or think I know, and the words fall fairly easily onto the keyboard. Not everything I write is from experience, though, but I can create scenarios in my head that make sense, if only in that over-romanticized Hollywood manner.

I enjoy writing (or, typing, in most cases), because it gets a lot of images out of my brain that I can’t stand to have stuck in there anymore. Some things are traumatic, gruesome, and just plain sad, and I don’t want them filling up the space anymore. Most ideas get started, but never finished. Or I start them, leave them, and come back later when I feel like I can clean it up.
Some things will NEVER be published to the internet, because they aren’t for you, but need to get thrown out of my skull before I stab someone in the throat with a rusty spoon.

I dream.
A lot.

Most nights, I don’t remember more than little snippets. And those are usually pretty basic, weird, dreamy things that mean nothing to me.
Other nights, I feel like I am being told a story. It’s not really a precognition thing (though, I do experience deja vu often), but it’s more like… I don’t even know what it is; it’s not always clear.

And some nights, like the one I had two days ago, are awful.
I sleep, but it isn’t a good sleep.
I dream, but the dreams are terrible.

That night, it was like the horror-version of Groundhog Day.
I died, many times, only to wake up and do it again.

I was stabbed, beaten, shot, drowned, suffocated, attacked by a shark (which actually ended in drowning, since the shark didn’t kill me quick enough). I was buried alive, hit by a train, blown up by a vest-bomb, and poisoned. There were probably more in there, but I lost some of them in the ether of my memory. It’s for the best, really.

The whole next day, I felt uneasy and sick.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was going to happen.
As of right now, nothing is going on, and I am okay with that.

Anyway… the writing.
I know the shorts I write aren’t that good.
Honestly, I don’t really care.

I take that back.
I care a little. There are a select few people in my life whose opinions mean so much to me, that I would be mortified if they read my b.s.
I’m not going to tell them that they can’t read it; and if they wanted to comment on it, I would take the criticism. But I would also be really, really disappointed in myself. But I am aware that I am not that good at this.

It isn’t about content.
it’s about getting the monsters out of my head.

It was just the two of them, if only for a short while, and they sat under the willow tree by the lake watching the sun rise over the water.

They would have this whole day together, alone.

There was a chill in the air, and dew hung on the grass and the leaves. Whenever the wind blew, the cool droplets rained down in a mist.
She shivered, and he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.
He was so warm and strong. She felt safe in his arms, protected from all the evils in the world.

But evil would come, and she had to be ready.
Just…. not yet.

She wanted to take this last day to be with him, her love. She never thought she could feel so strongly about anyone, and yet, there he was, resting his chin on her shoulder and…

She watched the men and women around her staring, judging, taking in the museum’s many pieces.

The paintings and statues, photos and furniture; it all had to mean something. They were looking for that hidden thing, whatever the artists was feeling when they created it. Some of them were smug, thinking that they had uncovered some conspiracy or another, and lording over the poor masses that couldn’t see it.

She never got it… whatever “it” was. Some things were just pretty, and that was enough.

The Degas exhibit was extraordinary. The detail in the lack of detail. Rough brush strokes and vibrant colors. She was particularly fond of the nude portraits. They were full of life and warmth.

While everyone else swarmed around the bronze ballerina – which she did find quite beautiful – she stayed back, watching them.